


violets are red, roses are blue

by Nehanshika_524



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicide Attempt, THOSE ARE JUST THE WARNINGS FOR LATER ON im making it sound much sadder than it is oh my, it's a weird au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:30:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehanshika_524/pseuds/Nehanshika_524
Summary: It is a commonly acknowledged truth that everybody has a soulmate. And, when your soulmate is in pain- is injured- flowers appear on your body where they bleed, in their favourite colour, and vice versa. Poetic, is it not?(In which Lance has a soulmate, and doesn't know how to help them. Or: two souls finally find each other after a lifetime of searching, and fall in love- it depends on your worldview.)





	violets are red, roses are blue

**Author's Note:**

> MMMM okay this turned into like  
> a vent  
> halfway thru  
> BUT im still proud of it, it has a cute cheesy ending and i actually finished it!!  
> also, originally, both lance and keith had roses, as opposed to roses and violets, but then i realised i could make an excellent pun with the title and so here we are  
> this is also pretty much unedited and i've only read through it like once, so hopefully yall still enjoy it lmao

It is a commonly acknowledged truth that everybody has a soulmate. And, when your soulmate is in pain- is injured- flowers appear on your body where they bleed, in their favourite colour, and vice versa. The deeper the injury, the darker the colour- although, fatal wounds are always white as snow. Poetic, is it not?

Lance remembered the first time his flowers- violets- grew. He was four at the time, and they started to grow on his knee- a deep red colour, small and pretty. The boy remembered running excitedly to his mother, showing her the little blossoms. She was delighted, but her smile quickly fell when Lance asked her what it meant.

She said she’d tell him, when he was old enough. The violets died eventually, but their pretty, red imprint, like a faded tattoo, remained on his left knee.

When Lance was seven, he tripped and fell, scraping his cheek pretty badly. The wound stung and burned, and he tried very hard to be a big kid and not cry as his sister, Veronica, cleaned and dressed it. She smiled down at him. “So, someone in the world has a blue flower on their cheek now, huh?”

He looked up at her curiously. “What d’you mean?”

His sister looked alarmed for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Mom hasn’t told you yet?” Lance shook his head. Veronica looked around for a moment- she would probably get in trouble for this, and was a little scared- but decided to tell her little brother anyway. He was seven now, only four years younger than her. He could understand it, right?

“Well,” she said, eyes twinkling. “You know how sometimes you get those flowers on you? The bright red ones?” Lance nodded eagerly. “Violets! I really like them! They’re super pretty.”

Veronica tried not to laugh. “Do you know why they grow?”

Her little brother looked thoughtful for a moment. “Because… Because our bodies make them- n… naturally?” He asked, hoping he’d gotten the word right.

“Kinda. Lance, everyone has someone called a ‘soulmate’.” And she began to explain what that meant, and how a flower grew when your soulmate got hurt in any way. Lance’s eyes went wide, but Veronica assured him that his soulmate wouldn’t hurt too badly (“I mean, that scrape on your cheek doesn’t hurt too bad, right?”), and that was that.

As Lance got older, though, he learnt some of the harsher truths about soulmates; about the world. For example, it was technically legal to marry someone who wasn’t your soulmate, and most people don’t have a problem with it, but in some countries, it’s illegal. If you’re caught being with someone who wasn’t made for you, you can get thrown into gaol, or even executed. In others, you can BE with someone who isn’t your soulmate, but you aren’t allowed to marry. Even in America, in some states, you can legally be fired from your job for not being married to your soulmate.

People attracted to their own gender were demonised enough as it were- there’s a lot of stigma against them, a lot of people claiming that soulmates are a “choice”- but, luckily, most people just cheated the system by platonically marrying their soulmates for tax benefits.

It’s also common practise to fake a soulmate, for this reason and many others; if you were someone who wasn’t in a safe environment to marry your soulmate- or your non-soulmate- you can escape the system by getting tattoos, to fake being made for someone. If, say, you were a girl whose family didn’t approve of your female soulmate, you, or she, could call on a male friend to get the temporary tattoos to mark him as the “real” soulmate. Similarly, if you wanted to marry someone who was not your soulmate, one or both of you could fake the flowers.

The soulmate system is checked according to medical history- legally, every single minor injury in which blood was drawn must be documented- and cross-referencing that with the flowers, or flower patterns, on each other’s bodies. If you were caught faking this, consequences were severe. In general, the system is incredibly based on monogamy and the belief that you HAVE to love someone because you were told to. For some people, it worked- after all, love is, at base level, a choice. But the system didn’t help everybody.

 

Lance kept a document of all the violets that appeared on his body- he wasn’t sure why. He figured that when he met his soulmate- if he met them- it’d be nice for them to know.

 

_17 th May – Age 15_

_Hey, soulmate. How are you? Not that you can answer, I guess._

_I got a big red flower on my back today. Kinda itches. Did you fall off your bike, or something? I fell off mine the other day, and landed in this weird ditch I’d never seen before. I got a black eye and a cut eyebrow out of it._

_Anyway! Tell me when you meet me!_

_15 th June – Age 16_

_Happy birthday to meeee_

_I’ve been getting lots of little violets here and there, so I figured they weren’t really worth documenting, you know? I got a really big one on my ribs today, though, and a few along my shoulder._

_I was thinking about you yesterday._

_…Did you get my message?_

_Anyway, I hope you’re alright. Stop falling off things, you nerd._

_12 th October – Age 16_

_BOYS AND GIRLS OF EVERY AGE_

_WOULDN’T YOU LIKE TO SEE SOMETHING STRANGE_

_It’s nearly Halloween!! I didn’t get any violets today (other than that one on the tip of my nose- was that a pimple? Broken nose? Tell me when we meet!), but I figured it’s worth saying IT’S NEARLY HALLOWEEN._

_Also, has your favourite colour always been red? Mine’s always been blue. I guess I’ll know you if I see you, right? You’d have this big blue flower on your cheek, where I got a pretty nasty scrape when I was little. Like, seven, maybe?_

_I wonder what kind of flower it’ll be._

_Kinda can’t wait to meet you, if I ever do._

 

He kept writing things in this fashion, for years. He’d filled up three journals by the time he was seventeen- unbeknownst to him, though, his soulmate was keeping a journal, too.

 

_15 th May – Age 15_

_What did you do to yourself? I just got a massive rose over my right eyelid. Did you get into a fistfight, or something?_

_It’s kind of a nice colour, though. I feel like blue would suit you._

_Hope you’re okay. Tell me what happened whenever I meet you._

_14 th June – Age 16_

_Hey, it’s my birthday today. So far, my presents include a binder from my brother- you’d like Shiro, he’s the best- and… A few little roses, from you._

_They’re in the shape of a heart._

_…Thanks <3_

_(P.S. please don’t ever do that to yourself again)_

_30 th October – Age 16_

_Happy Halloween, soulmate. Do you like Trick or Treat-ing? Or are you one of those boring people who think it’s for kids?_

_Well, either way: I definitely got more candy than you did. Just saying._

_You got hurt on your knee today- actually, it’s right over an old scar of mine. Does this mean we have matching flowers?_

_Can’t wait to meet you._

_I know I told you not to hurt yourself, so I’m being a hypocrite, but… Did you get my message?_

 

Lance watched as a little ring of crimson violets grew from the back of his palm- a perfect heart. He smiled, and laughed, trying not to cry. His soulmate _had_ gotten his message, and sent one right back.

_30 th October – Age 16_

_You did get it! You got my heart!_

_Happy Halloween. And, I know this is silly to say, because we don’t even know each other, really, but… I think I love you already. Or, if I don’t yet, I think I will when we meet._

_Stay safe, okay?_

 

A year passed with much the same thing- though neither sent hearts again, they both occasionally looked at the faded, rose or violet-patterned imprints on their hands, and smiled warmly, knowing that somebody out there loved them, was trying to communicate with them.

But, eventually, things became worse. Violets began to appear on Lance where they shouldn’t have- in places that wouldn’t be caused by a fall from a bike. He remembered his eyes widening as he looked in the mirror, seeing the bright red flowers bloom before him, on his bare shoulders, down his arm. With a sharp gasp, Lance realised smaller flowers were growing across the side of his face, dying instantly, but leaving a deep red imprint, like he’d been slapped. Or, he realised, blood running cold, like his soulmate had.

Lance started to shake. The violets didn’t stop growing. They were blooming across his shoulders now, down his back, a few on his sides. Again, they died instantaneously, leaving behind nothing but crimson patterns- a sign that they were bruises, and welts, instead of broken skin and bleeding.

When the flowers began to form in a ring around his neck, Lance ran from the bathroom, trying to slow his panicked breathing, his fast-beating heart. He could still feel them blooming, growing, sprouting under his skin. He choked out a sob and buried his face into his pillow.

_They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve this._

But there was nothing he could do. Lance was utterly helpless, left to see his soulmate be hurt, over and over again, incapable of saving them, of protecting them. He couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time- an hour, ten minutes, three? Lance couldn’t tell, as time had become abstract and spiralling and strange, and impossible to gauge- the violets stopped. Lance realised he was still crying, and weakly reached for his blanket in an attempt to wipe them away.

He felt relieved that his soulmate was, for now, at least, safe, and fell asleep instantly.

He didn’t feel the flowers blooming across his arm in thin, straight lines. He didn’t even notice them until morning- and when he did, time became strange again, and his head felt unfocused and fuzzy, his limbs like liquid, and he collapsed on the floor where he was, staring at nothing.

_September 13 th – Age 17_

_please no_

 

The page was wet with tears.

 

It happened again. And again, and again- violets appeared across his arms, his legs, even his belly, in thin scars. Lance felt powerless, unable to help them, unable to hold them, comfort them, tell them he was there for them.

For a while, they stopped. Lance made a note in his journal that he was proud of his soulmate, and would hug them a dozen times over for the achievement. But then, they began again.

Lance sat up suddenly, feeling the tell-tale tingling along his wrists that he’d hoped to never feel again. “No, no, no, no, no,” he murmured, ripping off his jacket. His eyes filled with tears as the flowers grew.

“No, please… No…”

They bloomed on both sides, more violently than they ever had before. Their colour was so deep a red it was almost black, and they were bigger, sturdier, taller than they ever had been, hideously beautiful in the pain they symbolised. Lance tried desperately to stop them- he didn’t know if holding their blooming petals would help, but he tried anyway- to no avail. They didn’t stop.

He felt them on his legs, on his belly, on his chest. He gasped suddenly as a horrific, agonising pain- worse than anything he’d ever felt in his life- shot straight down his arm, elbow to wrist. He clutched at it, eyes wide- when he pulled it away, there was blood on his fingers. It faded right away, but he knew what it meant.

The violets that appeared from the pain were pure white.

* * *

 

Lance didn’t get out of his bed the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that, even to go to school. His mother had come in, taken one look at the startling white bloom on his arm, and rushed to his side, hugging him and apologising. Lance didn’t respond, or say anything. He just felt numb. If time went strange when his soulmate was hurt, it stilled entirely now.

Veronica had come in at one point, and just sat beside him, a head on his shoulder. She said she was sorry, too. Lance said nothing.

He barely heard his mother when she said he needed to try and get out of the house- it’ll make you feel better, she said.

Sure it would.

But he went back to school anyway, staying in the library instead of meeting with his friends, reading books instead of thinking about his white violet.

One such day, when Lance was sitting alone, crouched in the corner of the room and reading Mary Shelley, he overheard something.

“…got hospitalised, or something. Heard it was a suicide attempt.”

Lance sat up suddenly.

“Really? From our school?”

“Yeah- the doctors found him trying to hide a soul-mark, too, this like, big blue one on his face.”

“Weird…”

His ears were ringing. He almost didn’t want to believe it, in case he was wrong, but… His soulmate was alive. His soulmate was alive and well and—and went to his school. He almost felt like laughing- he’d been so close, this entire time, and Lance never knew.

Lance got up very abruptly, rushing out of the school despite it being 12:30. He ran all the way to the hospital and burst through the doors, trying to find his way to the person he’d been waiting his whole life to see.

He was stopped, of course, but once he said those magic words- “I’m his soulmate”- he was given directions and let through.

Opening the door, out of breath and heart racing at a billion beats a second, Lance saw the boy with a blue rose across his cheek.

* * *

 

Keith was surprised, to say the least, when a boy he’d never seen before suddenly crashed through his door, panting and looking like he’d run a hundred miles. He sat up, eyes wide. “Who the—who are you?!” Keith demanded.

The boy just stared at him, a look of amazement on his face. “It’s you,” he said breathlessly. His eyes, Keith noticed, weren’t looking at him directly- they seemed to be focused on something on his face… His rose? Absentmindedly, Keith reached up to touch it.

His strange visitor drew closer. A shock reverberating through his entire body, Keith realised the boy had a bright red imprint on the tip of his nose, and violets blooming all across his arms.

“It’s you,” Keith echoed. Then, he laughed. “It’s you!” He said, ignoring the sudden beeping of the machines and rushing to this boy- his soulmate, the one he’d been searching for, for so long, the one he’d gotten a rose from on his birthday, the one he felt like he’d been through everything with. And he was the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen.

Keith threw his arms around him, still laughing. The boy- his _soulmate_ \- laughed too, hugging him back.

A nurse had rushed into the room, having received a warning that his monitor was reading no pulse, but stopped short at the doorway. She smiled to herself for a moment, then walked away, leaving them be.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” Keith said as they pulled apart. And he couldn’t. “And, there’s something I want to ask—“

“What’s your name?” He blurted suddenly. “I’m- My name’s Lance.”

“Lance?”

“Y-yeah?”

Keith smiled sheepishly. “I’m Keith.”

“Keith.” Lance said. He smiled back, a little shakily. “I like it.”

Wordlessly, Keith stepped a little closer, noticing the white flower, still in full bloom, on Lance’s arm. He touched it briefly, then let his hand fall to gently hold Lance’s. “I’m sorry, Lance,” he said in a small voice, looking away. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I made you worry, you probably thought I was dead, and- oh, God, everyone knows the white ones hurt both people, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay, Keith.” Lance entwined his fingers with Keith’s. “You, uh… Well, you made a mistake, that’s all. Everyone does, right? It’s no big deal. You’re alive, and we actually _found_ each other, and—and things are going to get better, okay?”

Keith looked up at him. He was going to ask, “How can you be sure?” but the look on Lance’s face was enough to tell him that he just was, and that he was right- things would be okay.

“Thanks, Lance. I… I think I love you.”

“This is cheesy, but I think I love you, too.”

* * *

 

After he was discharged, and after social services had looked into Keith’s living situation, deeming his foster home more dangerous than his original one, he moved in with his half-brother, Shiro. Keith admitted he’d never asked to move in before because he was afraid Shiro might not be able to take care of three dogs and a kid, but Shiro assured him it was fine.

As it turned out, his and Lance’s houses were separated only by a fence in the backyard- every day, they came to talk to each other, Keith showing Lance his journal entries, Lance’s face lighting up as he ran to get his own. Slowly, they learned about each other- likes and dislikes, habits, quirks, whether or not they believed in Mothman (“He’s real, Lance!”), and, as people do, fell in love.

Keith learned that Lance was a Cat Person. He had two cats- Bean and Sprout, who’d just had a litter of kittens together. Keith couldn’t take any home, as Shiro was allergic- and they had three dogs- but Lance let him name a few of them. There was a tiny, fuzzy black kitten he called “Khoshekh”- Lance side-eyed him on that one, but said nothing- and a tuxedo kitty that climbed all over Keith and bit his arm lovingly. He called it “Shinji”, and Lance hit him over the head with a pillow for it.

In turn, Lance got to meet Shiro’s pet dogs- Keith noticed he was a little nervous around them, so he tried to keep them fairly far away from him. They weren’t all too big, but fear is fear, and Keith made sure to hold the more excitable one- Jellybean- from jumping all over Lance in pure puppy-joy. Lance didn’t pet any of them, instead preferring to admire from a distance, but he did laugh when Jellybean started licking Keith’s face.

They tried to build a treehouse together, about a month after they met, and this went about as well as expected. The whole thing crashed down as soon as Keith threw a pillow into it, and they paused, staring at the wooden wreckage they’d spent a whole two weeks trying to build, then decided that maybe Overwatch was a better hobby.

Keith, borrowing Shiro’s laptop as he sat beside Lance, learned the hard way that Lance was a mean sniper- mystery 1v1 duels were never a good idea, honestly- but after kicking his ass maybe three times, Lance decided to teach Keith the actual basics of Overwatch. They tried going into Quick Play, with Keith choosing Bastion- “He has a pet bird. I trust him.”- and Lance playing Widowmaker, as he usually did. Keith eventually switched to Genji, saying he didn’t trust a cyborg ninja dude but that he looked cool anyway, and they won their first game together.

Lance cheered loudly and flung his arms around Keith, red petals falling from his wrists, kissing him on the cheek. Keith blushed so hard that the blue rose on his face looked purple.

_Keith.exe has stopped working Keith.exe has stopped working Keith.exe has stopped working—_

Lance looked worried for a minute, then grinned. He leaned in closer, gently pressing his lips to Keith’s.

Keith at first made a noise of alarm, and Lance nearly pulled away to apologise, feeling awful. But then, slowly, Keith kissed him back, still red as the flowers on Lance’s body. Lance giggled a little, which set Keith off too, until they had to pull apart, laughing so hard their sides hurt and their eyes filled with tears. They weren’t laughing at each other, or at the game, or anything like that- they were just two seventeen-year-old boys who’d kissed for the first time, full of happiness and golden, elated joy.

When they’d finally composed themselves, Keith looked at Lance in adoration.

“I love you.”

Lance tried to ignore the fact that his eyes were welling with tears.

“I love you too, Keith.”

**Author's Note:**

> questions? comments? requests? hmu on my writing blog: dhillarearenn !


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